Chapter 5 - Prologue
March 28, 2008
So, you’re probably wondering what made me decide to go down this path, right?
For the past three and a half years, I’ve been a dancer, or stripper if you prefer that term. I got into dancing at the behest of my girlfriend (Nikki) who began dancing on her 18th birthday (while she was still in high school, no less). Once I did, I never looked back, though; the work was interesting and financially rewarding. I was never one who considered taking your clothes off for a living “degrading,” “dehumanizing,” or “objectifying” as many other women do – it was just another line of work to me. We started out in Nashville, dancing there for a few months, and then made the decision to move to Florida.
The move to Florida in 2005 came about for two reasons really. First, we’d been down here several times on vacation and just absolutely loved the place – warm weather, the beaches, the culture here – what’s not to love (except for the occasional hurricane, of course)? Second, the work environment was much more, shall we say, robust. The regulations for clubs are not as stringent here (that’s code for “people aren’t as uptight about naked bodies here”) and there are literally dozens of places to work.
We found work in an upscale club where we could make a comfortable living, pay our tuition at a private university, and put away a good bit of money in savings accounts and investments for the future. The working environment was much better here than in Nashville and the club was “clean” – we didn’t have to do “extras” to make the good money. Stripping literally made my undergraduate degree possible – to this day, I have no student loan debt. With an annual tuition of around $30,000 a year, that’s saying something.
When I changed schools, I changed my major from Business Administration to Psychology, while my girlfriend continued her pursuit of a BA in Business Admin. Because I changed majors, I spent an extra year in college – Nikki graduated in May of 2007, while I was to graduate one year later. The change in majors was prompted by a change in the direction I wanted my life to go. I had originally wanted to be involved in some aspect of international business, but now I was interested in doing some work in some other area.
Long ago I had decided I wanted to pursue a Master’s degree in a subject that interested me. And, one of the subjects that had interested me considerably since I was in my early teens was, not surprisingly, sexuality. Not just “sex” but the entire range of experience that constitutes sexuality – the collective physical, emotional, psychological and spiritual experience set that formed an individual’s sexual identity, and the broader societal constructs that came about as the result of cultural shifts in sexual expression.
When I’d changed my undergrad major to Psychology, I already knew that I wanted to pursue further education in human sexuality, and had begun investigating several colleges that offered graduate programs in that subject. San Francisco State University had one of the most widely known and respected programs in that field, and that is where my research led me in the pursuit of even higher education. As a bonus, Nikki could pursue her MBA there as well. With the exception of having to move temporarily from Florida, it seemed like a win-win for both of us.
As my graduation date approached, we began to look into our options with respect to moving to and working in the Bay Area. So, we scheduled a trip to the area to scope it out and see what we could find. In January of 2008, we flew to the city to look around for a place to live and some place to work.
On the trip, however, it became quite obvious that the potential to earn a good income from stripping was going to be drastically reduced compared to where we were. There were a variety of reasons for this. First and foremost, the dancing climate in SF was very slow at this point. No one knows for sure why this is, but the average dancer makes considerably less in SF than she might in other cities. In fact, many dancers fly to Las Vegas each weekend to work and make far more than they ever would on their best days in SF. We even looked into working at the infamous O’Farrell’s Theater. And, in researching these places online, and talking with some of the dancers who worked at the local clubs, it became clear that, in order to make any decent money, you’d pretty much have to perform sexual services for the customers as well.
Little was done to inhibit this because, as you probably know, San Francisco is a sexually liberated city anyway, and enforcement of anti-prostitution laws was largely non-existent. In fact, in 1996, a task force even recommended that the police stop enforcing prostitution laws altogether within the city of SF itself. With this in mind, unless someone complained (or a local politician was up for reelection), sex in strip clubs goes on largely unabated.
As fate would have it, in one of my earlier college classes (which, ironically enough, was a human sexuality class) one of the girls I befriended told me that she worked as an escort to pay for college. Escorts are, for all intents and purposes, high class prostitutes. And, though they tout themselves as “paid companions,” it is generally understood that that companionship usually includes sexual services. In our conversation she indicated that she thought I’d make an excellent escort. While I appreciated the compliment(?) at the time, I never saw myself as one who could do that kind of work. I was doing well dancing, making all the money I needed to attend school and just didn’t see what I’d get out of doing escort work as well. Not only that, but as I indicated, I just didn’t have the time to devote to it.
The working environment in San Francisco, however, forced me to examine this option in a different light. If I was going to have to suck or fuck the customers to make any money in the clubs, why not just work as an escort, making more money and being able to pick the clients I wanted to service? It seemed like a no-brainer to me to at least give it some serious thought.
So, I evaluated the pros and cons of escort work. The pros basically boiled down to:
- I’d be making outrageous sums of money, far more than I could make dancing, even if I was fucking customers in the club.
- I could set my own hours/work schedule
- Unlike hooking or performing sex on club customers, I could screen and select my own clients
- I’d get to meet interesting people, and perhaps travel some
- I’d get to explore other peoples’ sexuality
There were, of course, some cons as well:
- The stigma of being a whore (not that stripping was much better, but at least you weren’t seen as fucking your customers by most people).
- A greater risk of acquiring a disease (somewhat abated by the required use of condoms)
- Working in a field that could be interpreted as illegal, though as I pointed out above, there is little enforcement of these laws in the city.
- The prospect of being out with someone on my own where my security and safety was less guaranteed than it was in a club
I spent a couple of months researching the work and everything that it entailed. I initially thought I’d like to go with an agency. This would allow me to have other people schedule and vet the clients, keep track of everything, etc. I had several agencies tell me I could make (seriously) hundreds of thousands of dollars in a short period of time because of my looks and personality. But agencies require you to be on call for periods of time, and take a good chunk of your money from each of your appointments. Alternatively, I could work as an independent escort. This would allow me to control my own destiny and I’d be able to keep all of the money.
After having researched and discussed the subject with several people in the field, though, it seemed as if going independent would be the best arrangement for me. Most experienced women suggested it was best to go that route if you could handle it, and I felt that I was bright enough to be able to take care of everything that would be involved. So, that’s what I decided would be the best approach.
The next step was discussing the subject with my girlfriend. Nikki and I had been an official “couple” for a good three years. We had a semi-open relationship – we allowed each other to experiment or play with other women, but no men (more on this in a future post). Doing escort work, of course, meant that that rule would need to go away. One of the things that attracted each of us to the other is our very liberal approach to sexuality and, fortunately for me, Nikki was open to discussing me working as an escort (we’d had a conversation about it before when it was brought up to me by the girl in my class).
As luck (or, perhaps, fate) would have it, Nikki had gotten a job as a business analyst at a huge Miami travel agency – a job she absolutely adored. She had already begun to waver about whether or not she wanted to move to San Francisco and work on her degree at this point. The fact that dancing in SF wasn’t going to be as a good option for work helped reinforce that option for her as well. So, my being alone in SF (and its attendant lack of an outlet for sexual release), dancing not being a good option, and the need to continue paying a mortgage on our house in Florida plus the cost of living in SF all coming together mandated that I would have to work at something while I was there. Nikki agreed, albeit somewhat reluctantly, that she’d be okay with me working as an escort for the two years I’d be in California.
So, this summer, I will begin work as an independent escort in the San Francisco area. You’re invited to follow along. It may be a short journey – I may have a couple of dates and decide it just isn’t for me. Or, alternatively, I may find it as exciting and rewarding as I think I will and it will be an interesting two years. Either way, my experiences will be chronicled here for the world to see. You’re invited to comment, ask questions, and generate discussion.
Protected: The Punishing of Ally
March 26, 2008
Protected: Fantasy and Violation
March 26, 2008
Facial Party
March 26, 2008
I had continued to correspond with several of the men who replied to my original Craigslist posting, for a variety of reasons. Many of them wanted to hear how things had gone, some tried to convince me that their load would be larger than anyone else’s, others wanted to know if I wanted to “try it again” with them, and so forth. Though I hadn’t given it much thought at the outset, the overwhelming majority of the guys who wrote to me were honestly nice guys – they weren’t the pervy, misogynistic fuckwits that I expected some of them to be. For the most part, they were all respectful of what I wanted to do, and were nice and polite when I told them I’d found someone else to do what I wanted done, and were genuinely curious as to what was motivating me.
One guy in particular stood out. I would come to find out that he was a member of a sex club in the city – the members would get together and participate in a variety of different sexual activities. It wasn’t the typical swinger’s club, per se, but more along the lines of a place where they could explore some of the kinkier sides of their sexual peccadilloes. We had carried on a long conversation thread about why I was doing this kind of stuff and talking about other sexual odds and ends.
During the course of our conversations, he’d inquired about my sexual proclivities, and when I let on that I had a strong desire to explore my submissive side, he tied that together with my fascination with facials and introduced me to the concept of the bukakke. Now, I’d heard the word and was familiar with what it meant – after all, as I said in my original story, I was pretty familiar with porn. It’s hard to do any serious exploration of that without coming across bukakke web sites and photos. Still, I hadn’t seriously entertained the thoughts of doing something like that up to this point. It seemed, however, to be the next logical step in my progressive fascination with facials.
Tom’s was an invitation-only club. You had to be recommended by someone who was already a member to even be considered, everyone had to be tested and disease free, and they had to swear allegiance to the club. This meant that they didn’t have sexual contact with anyone else outside the club, which, theoretically at least, precluded the risk of diseases entering the group. The idea was to allow them to have condom-free sex with each other with little risk of transmitting anything.
As Tom read through the tales of my facial exploits, he continued to tease me with the idea of participating in a bukakke session. Apparently, the women who were members of his club weren’t too keen on the idea of being cum repositories for multiple men, and some of the men had hoped my fascination with being a cum slut would carry over into allowing them to use me as a surrogate for that at one of their sex parties. He eventually put forth the idea of paying me to do it, so needless to say, my interest piqued at that point. My standard “fee” for using my face was $100 per person. Tom indicated that he wasn’t sure exactly how many guys would be at any given party, but we settled on a figure of $1,000 for me to be there and let them do what they wanted, short of penetration. Tom gave me the club’s web site link to review what they were about, and we set a date and time. I spent the next few days watching several bukakke videos so I’d have some idea of what I was in for.
When the time came, I nervously drove to the address Id been given. I had looked it up online, so I pretty much knew where I was going, and they’d had photos of the inside of the club on the website so I had had some comfort with the facility itself, but you never really know what you’re getting into until you’ve walked through the doors. I parked my car, spent a few minutes composing myself, got out and rang the door buzzer.
I was greeted by a gorgeous woman who appeared to be in her early 30s. She welcomed me and made a comment about the guys were going to love playing with someone as pretty as I was. I thanked her sheepishly and followed her back to a moderate sized room where a handful of people were milling around in various states of dress. Everyone stopped in their tracks when I walked through the door and stared at me, making me feel a bit uncomfortable. A man I recognized as Tom approached me, extended his hand and welcomed me to the club. He then introduced me to the rest of the folks who’d assembled for the evening’s festivities.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is Alexa. She’s our cum slut for the evening.” A collection of wows, ooh, and ahhs emanated from the group. My guess was that they weren’t used to having someone my age and looks available for their use in any capacity, let alone as a semen receptacle. Everyone exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes, and then Tom ushered me into the kitchen where he explained to me what he had in mind.
“Basically, I’m going to leave it up to you to decide how you want to let it play out. You can just sit on the floor; we can lay you down on a table or on the floor; or whatever you feel comfortable with. The girls are going to blow or fuck the guys until they’re ready to cum and they’ll move over to you and finish themselves off on your face. Pretty simple, really.”
“How many guys showed up?”
“Right now, there are 14 of them here. I expect another couple to show up shortly, though.”
“Cool. I noticed a kind of rack looking thing in the room. As I’ve explained, I am kind of on a submissive kick right now. Would it be okay if you tied me to that in some kind of position where my face is at cock level, maybe in a spread eagle kind of way so I can’t use my hands? ”
“Oh, hell, yeah. That’ll make the guys even more excited than they are now I bet. You’re welcome to go out and grab a bite to eat and something to drink if you’d like.”
“Okay, what about the payment?”
“It’s right over here on the table. A thousand dollars in cash, just as you requested.”
“Cool. Thanks. Where should I put my stuff?” pointing to the bag of clean clothes I brought with me. I grabbed the envelope, as we headed out of the room. Tom walked me back to one of the bathrooms and told me to just put my stuff in there; it’d be perfectly safe. I dropped my bag and went out to the bar and grabbed some potato chips and dip and a diet coke. Several of the people walked up and talked with me, wanting to know how I ended up here and about how I got started with all of this. Several of them commented on the stories I’d written and how hot they were – Tom had shared them with the group so they’d know a little bit about what brought me to this point. I happened to catch a glance of a woman going down on a guy sitting on one of the large couches in the rear of the room, and almost as if that were a signal people started shedding clothing and cocks sprang to life.
Tom and another guy spread a sheet of plastic across the floor in the center of the room, put a blanket over it, and moved the rack over on top of the blanket. He then went over the rules with everyone so they’d know what they could or couldn’t do. “Basically, Alexa is here for you to use as you see fit, but there’s to be no penetration, including the mouth. You can cum on her, slap her, spit on her, grab her hair, talk dirty to her – she’ll probably talk right back to you. But she’s not going to touch you in anyway. Are there any questions?” No one said anything, and he then reminded them of the safe word we’d agreed upon. Someone in the back of the room, whose cock was already in someone’s mouth, said something to the effect of “Let’s get busy.”
I took that as my cue and started disrobing. When I was done, out of nowhere, someone grabbed my hair. “Come here, slut.” I was dragged by my hair over to the rack I had referred to earlier, forced to my knees, and held in place while a couple of the women tied my wrists to the rack. When they were done, one of the women grabbed my chin, turned my head up and spit in my face without warning, hitting me in the space between my left eye and cheek. Though that had caught me off guard and I wasn’t terribly fazed by it, I could feel the heat well up in my face as I turned red from embarrassment.
I’d never actually had anyone spit on me before, even though I’d offered to let others do it when they were using me. My initial instinct was to return the favor, but I elected not to since I’d indicated in much of my conversation with Tom that it was part of my submissive fantasies to be treated like that. The agreement for tonight was that I’d be used in any way until such time as I used the safe word we’d agreed on. There were no limits placed on this, with the exception of penetration, as had been the case with my previous forays into facialdom.
I sat back and watched the scene that was unfolding before me. I had been in a room with one other couple having sex before, but to see two dozen people fucking was just surreal. It was like watching a live porn scene unfold. Women were blowing the guys, guys were eating pussy, and guys were fucking the women, all within a few feet of me. One woman had her back to a wall and her mouth was being railed by this one guy as if he were grudge fucking her cunt. I’m guessing she had no gag reflex?
All of this was taking place with the singular purpose of getting the guys ready to ejaculate on me. I was trying to decide if I was proud of this, but I knew I was infatuated with it, at least at this point. I felt like some kind of fertility goddess awaiting worship from my loyal subjects! The sounds were just as incredible as the visuals – hearing the slopping and sucking that takes place when someone is being face fucked was incredibly erotic to me, I found. I began to get wet in anticipation of what was to come.
Before long, two of the guys took their cocks out of the girls’ mouths and moved over towards me. “Fuck, yeah, cum on my face. Give it to me!” You could see the intensity build in these guy’s faces as their orgasms welled up inside them. The first guy’s spurts hit me square in the right eye. Fuck, that stung.
Almost immediately the guy on my other side blasted the left side of my face. “You like that, don’t you, you little whore?” I turned my face up so they could finish off and tried to keep my eyes out of the direct line of fire. One of them got off five strong shots, while the other one kind of fizzled after the first one. When they were done, it really didn’t feel any different than the other facials I’d had up to that point. Nice and warm to begin with, and then they got really cool, almost cold. My eye was burning like a mother fucker, though.
Very quickly thereafter, a third guy moved toward me. He grabbed my hair and turned my face up and continued jerking himself off right above my face. I truly wish they’d do a “point of view” camera shot of that in porn from time to time! The sight of that cock just a few inches from your face, knowing it is about to explode all over you is orgasm-inducing! Pretty soon, he started oozing cum out. I don’t know if he did it intentionally or not, but his cum came boiling out right into my eyes again, though I’d managed to close them this time before the man juice landed in them. I had taken the precaution of not wearing my contacts, knowing it was quite likely I’d be getting cum in my eyes on this trip, so I wasn’t overly concerned about that. He finished draining himself and spanked his cock on my face, splattering what was there, and then I heard him hock up a mouthful of saliva and spit it in my face. The impact caused me to jerk back and knock my head against the rack. “I’ve always wanted to do that to a bitch before.”
Before I had a chance to regain any understanding of what was going on, another squirt hit me in the mouth. I had my lips parted so I could breathe through them while the third guy was finishing up and the fourth guy’s cum shot almost right down my throat, causing me to choke a bit. I closed my mouth quickly as his second shot hit me in almost the exact same spot. I could now feel the cum dripping off my face onto my chest, and the coolness of it causes chill bumps to rise on my body; even my nipples were becoming more erect than they already had been.
I can only imagine what I must’ve looked like, sitting there with all of that cum on my face, glistening in the lights of the room. I’d watched those Bukakke videos in anticipation of this night, and I had masturbated to the thought of myself being used this way on several occasions. I wondered if the visual appearance I presented to these people was living up to what I had seen for myself in the pornos. I’d never know, though, since club rules didn’t permit any photos or videotaping of the things that took place there.
I could barely open my eyes, even though the semen had finally slid out of my eye cavities and drained down my cheeks. Four more guys were standing before me jerking their cocks. “Come on you fuckers; spray your seed on this slut’s face.” Almost before I got the words out, I felt a strong blast on my right cheek. It must’ve been a strong one, too, because the guy who unloaded on me let out a guttural moan that I hadn’t heard very often before. Clearly, he’d experienced a strong contraction, judging by the strength of the splatter – it felt like being squirted with a strong water gun. He and the three other guys unloaded a ton of cum on me, with one of them aiming for my boobs instead of my face.
You begin to lose yourself in the moment after a while with so much going on around you. And when you can’t see, the rest of your senses begin to take over to try to compensate. It was hard to breathe with my nasal openings clogged up with semen, and this was forcing me to leave my lips parted to breathe. This allowed the juices draining off my face to drip into my mouth. I tried blowing cum bubbles like I’d seen in the videos, though it was hard to gauge how successful I was given that I couldn’t see myself doing it. The quasi-chlorine smell of the semen was intense. That combined with the musky smell of sex and perspiration that permeated the air in the room at this point made for a primal, erotic mixture.
Your hearing also increases in sensitivity. Since I couldn’t see when someone was approaching me, I tried to listen to see if I could hear the guys walk up to me. What I found interesting was that I could hear people sucking and fucking in the room. The slurps and gags of the women sucking cocks, and the staccato slapping of skin of people who were actually fucking was interesting overlaid with the sounds of the guys in front of me jerking their cocks. I could distinctly hear two guys in front of me jerking themselves off; the sound of their hands sliding back and forth rapidly on their cocks reminded me of the last time I’d given a handjob.
One guy came up and asked me to beg him to cum on me. “Please cum on me, baby. I need you to cum on my face.” I could tell someone was with him, and a woman said something that led me to realize that she was doing the work for him. It sounded like she was alternating between sucking his cock and jerking him, and with my begging for his cum he finally reached the point of no return. She managed to aim his cock right over my forehead and he got off about four good shots. When he was done, he rubbed his cock all over my tits and cock-slapped them several times. I could tell by the splattering sounds that even my chest was coated with a decent layer of sex juices.
By this point I had lost count of the number of guys who’d actually ejaculated on me. A couple had shot their loads on my tits instead of my face, but the goo on my face was very thick. It was starting to dry on some of the edges, and your skin starts to feel kind of like a face peel has been applied to it. I could still feel the impact of every guy’s blasts, though, as more and more cum was deposited on my face and head, the warm liquid draining down my cheeks or worse yet my nose. Every time it’d run down the bridge of my nose and drip off the tip, it would tickle the shit out of it. With my hands tied, I couldn’t reach up to scratch it, so I’d wiggle my head back and forth to try to dislodge it. I also couldn’t reach down to masturbate myself. I was soaking wet and wasn’t wholly sure the pool of liquid at my crotch was just cum from the men. I tried to squeeze my legs together to make myself orgasm, but the position I was in didn’t allow me to do that very well. My name had become “slut,” “whore,” “cunt,” or “bitch,” depending on who you asked.
The feeling of being dominated and used purely as a fuck toy or a trash can for a roomful of guy’s spunk just does it for me I’d discovered. I wish I knew specifically why it did, but I don’t. Perhaps it is because I feel it is one of those ultimately submissive things. When people find out that I do this kind of stuff, they frequently ask if or why I don’t find it degrading. My answer is that I fail to see how providing someone else with sexual pleasure can remotely be degrading if it is mutually consensual. I have absolutely no problem allowing someone else to use me, my mind, or my body to get themselves off, within reason. Getting paid for it is a side benefit, of course, but I don’t feel any less of a human being because I’m letting people use me to achieve sexual pleasure for money.
“God, she looks like a slut. Look at all of that cum.” Someone laughed and wondered aloud what would make a girl want to do something like this. I thought that was odd, given the very nature of a sex club to begin with; I could easily have asked the same question about what they do. Of course, none of the female members apparently enjoyed being used this way, so perhaps it was unique here. That would explain why Tom was so grateful that my fantasy had taken shape in the manner it had, I suppose.
When the last guy had blown his load on me, a couple of people came up to me and starting scooping cum off my face. “Open your mouth, cunt.” I did as I was told, and they started shoveling cum from my face into my mouth. Warm cum is not the best tasting stuff in the world to begin with, and when it cools off it doesn’t get much better. I tried to swallow as much as I could, but I finally got to the point where it was just too much, so I locked my mouth shut. Someone slapped me across the cheek. “Fucking whore.” That stung. It sounded like that same woman who’d been spitting on me. What a fucking bitch.
Finally Tom chimed in. “Untie her and walk her back to the bathroom so she can clean up. You did an excellent job, Alexa. Everyone give her a nice round of applause.” The room erupted in clapping and hollering. It made me feel good that I had provided them with a good time, but I was ready to get this shit out of my eyes.
A woman untied me, grabbed my hand and told me to follow her. When we got the bathroom, I expected her to leave me and close the door behind her, but she remained in the room. I moved over to the sink, grabbed a washcloth, and began cleaning the dried cum from around my eyes so I could see well enough to navigate around the room unaided. When I could see again, I found that my accompanist was the woman who’d spit in my face the first time. She had taken her clothes off. “Get in the shower. I’ll help clean you off.” I hesitated for a second as I looked in the mirror to admire the semen splattered face that I saw. I looked like a glazed donut. The whole upper half of my body was covered in a slimy, gooey mix of cum and saliva. I thought it looked quite….slutty.
Though I was startled at her demand and wasn’t sure how to expect, I did as the lady asked. She turned the water on to allow it to warm up as I walked over to the huge, glass-enclosed stall. As soon as I stepped in she grabbed a handful of my hair and ordered me onto my knees. I kneeled down outside the water stream and she moved to a position in front of me so that her pussy was right at my face level. I was waiting for the command to eat her pussy, but instead was met with a stream of hot piss from her cunt. She was pissing on my face, holding my head in place by my hair. “Let me help you wash all of that jizz from your face, sweety. I’ve been holding this just for you.” With that she began moving her hips so her urine stream was washing over my face. When she was through, she pulled me up by my hair, looked me in the face, and spit on me again. “When you’re ready to explore your submissive side with another woman, give me a call.” She left me there dazed as to what had just happened – that was not a part of the plan I’d worked out with Tom, so I was a bit taken aback by her.
I took some time washing myself up, allowing the warm water to caress my naked body and reflecting on the feelings I’d had being used. Getting dried cum out of your hair is a pain in the ass, as I had discovered over the past few weeks. I did the best I could, but I know I didn’t get it all. I resigned myself to spending the next couple of days combing dried cum out of my hair. I washed and rinsed, and did it over again, masturbating myself to an orgasm as I washed my pussy. I finished washing my body, got out, dried off and got dressed again.
I walked out and everyone was sitting around commiserating with one another about the evening’s festivities. One of the guys told me that, even though I looked hot with cum all over me, I looked much better without it, and that I’d probably look even better with his cock in my mouth. I thanked him and headed off to find Tom to let him know I was leaving and to thank him for the evening.
As I walked into the kitchen, I spotted the spitting woman standing in the doorway with her back to me, talking to someone I couldn’t see. I had been curiously intrigued by her statement to me in the shower, and I wanted to find out how to contact her in the event that I decided I wanted to play with her. I have a lot of experience with women, so even though she’d attempted to intimidate me by spitting on me, I wasn’t fazed by her attitude in the least. I walked up to her, grabber her hair, and kissed her right in front of the other two women she was talking with. That caught her off guard and stunned her compatriots. She attempted to resist for a second and then just gave in; as it turns out she was an excellent kisser. “Write your name and number down. I may want to….explore some things with you in the not too distant future.” She wiped her mouth off, got a pen and a piece of paper and wrote something down and handed the card to me. I glanced at the card. “Tamson, huh? What a unique name.”
“Whenever you’re ready, cunt, give me a call. I’ll fuck you into exhaustion.”
I licked my lips at her, turned and walked off to find Tom once again. I found him in the backyard talking with some other people. “I am headed out. Thank you for an interesting evening.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. With your writings I kind of figured you would, but you never know until you actually do it.”
“Those are words I live by. If you’d like to do this again in the future, let me know.”
“Okay, thanks. I’m not sure we could afford to do it very often, though.”
“That’s okay. Call me anyway. We can work something out.” I winked, turned around and walked through the house back to my car, got in and drove home. When I got home, I sent Tamson an e-mail. I knew she wouldn’t get it until later that night, but I wanted her to know that I had thought about her on the way home. It said, simply, “Let’s exchange spit sometime soon.”
Cumming in the Friendly Skies
March 26, 2008
My weekend of selling myself for use as a cum dumpster had come to an end. A few of the guys didn’t bother to show up so I only ended up with $900, but for what little I did, that was hard to beat. In the middle of all of it, though, the act of being cum on seemed to lose its luster for me — it was no longer the erotic exercise that it had started out being, at least not when done in the manner I’d been doing it.
I wasn’t to the point where I was tired of it enough to ignore the opportunity to take a free flight, however. I had been corresponding with Steve, a flight attendant for JetBlue airlines about his offer to provide me and my GF with free buddy passes to anywhere the airline flew if I’d let him cum on my face on a flight. I had my reservations about the logistics of just how this might be accomplished, but with all of the stories I’d heard about people joining the “mile high club,” I figured if anyone would know how to make it happen, it’d be a member of a flight crew. Nikki and I spent some time discussing it and finally decided Aruba would be the more exotic of the two locations we had to choose from.
We worked out our schedules and selected a flight that left at about 11PM on a Friday night, and arrived in Aruba at 2PM the following day. This late flight allowed us to take advantage of the fact that most everyone would be asleep during the majority of the trip, so we could make use of the rear of the plane to take care of business without a terribly high risk of being discovered. Steve indicated that all we needed to do was go to the counter and present our IDs to pick up the tickets and it pretty much worked out that way. We checked our bags, waited in the ridiculous faux security line and made our way to the boarding gate.
As we waited in the boarding area, the flight crew arrived. I made it a point to stand near the jetway door so Steve would see me, and as our eyes met his face brightened up. I could tell, though, that he was trying to be nonchalant about it so the other members of the crew wouldn’t notice anything untoward. I wasn’t going to make a scene, but wanted him to know that I was there as promised.
As we boarded the plane, I happened to notice the other two flight attendants. One of them was an older woman who appeared to be the senior member, and the second was a gorgeous, dark-haired woman who appeared to be in her mid 20s. She was striking in that she kind of reminded me of Angie Harmon in her younger days. I read her name tag as we passed by her in the aisle; “Siobhan.” What an exotic name for an exotic woman, I thought to myself.
We settled in, watched the safety demonstration, took off and enjoyed the first few moments of the flight. About an hour into it, the flight attendants began a snack/beverage service, which started at the front of the cabin. Steve had arranged our particular seats so that we were on our own row near the rear of the plane, with no one behind us, specifically so we could have as much of the ass end of the plane to ourselves as possible for what was to come. This leg of the flight took us to New York City and the plane was only about half full, so I didn’t suspect it was too hard for him to arrange it this way.
As Steve and Siobhan came to us, he gave the first indication of what was to come. “Good morning, Alexa. What would you like to drink? Some cream, perhaps?” Nikki began laughing at the poor attempt at humor. “You must be Nikki. Alexa’s talked a lot about you.” Siobhan acted as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on. I was wondering to myself what he planned to do with her while we were taking care of business in the back, but he’d told me in the e-mails not to worry about the rest of the crew. He’d indicated in our conversations that he’d be fired if he got caught, so I sure was curious as to how he planned to dispose of her when the time came.
After they got done with the service and spent some time picking up trash from everyone, Steve came by and knelt down next to my seat. “Give me about five minutes and come back behind the curtain.” I nodded in concurrence and he headed back towards the rear of the plane. All of the lights were dimmed and no one was moving around, so this allowed me to be a bit more comfortable that we might actually be able to pull this off without much of a problem.
I gave him a few minutes and when I was sure no one was about to get up, I unbuckled my seat belt quietly, got up and headed towards the back of the plane. I pulled the curtain aside and there were Steve and Siobhan talking quietly. I froze for an instant and just looked at her and then him. “She’s okay; she’s going to keep an eye out on the cabin to let us know if anyone comes back to use the lavatories. She wants to watch, too.”
I was like, “whoa!” I wasn’t prepared for an audience, but the reality was that I found her attractive, and it made me just a bit wet to know that she was going to be watching. “Whatever turns her on.” She just got this “whatever” look on her face. Steve told me to kneel down next to the emergency door but not to use anything on it to brace myself with — he didn’t want us getting sucked out of the airplane. I laughed internally about the punniness of that statement, but made a mental note not to even lean toward the door. Siobhan assumed a position in the middle of the galley where she had a clear view of the aisle as Steve undid his belt, unzipped his pants and pulled out his rod. He clearly was ready for action — he was already standing at attention.
I pulled my hair back and tied it up into a ponytail, and got down on my knees as he began jerking his cock. Siobhan just leaned back against the wall and watched. She really seemed to have an attitude, though I couldn’t tell what her issue was — was she jealous, freaked out, pissed off, or what? I wanted to talk dirty to Steve, but with everyone so close to us on the other side of the flimsy curtain, I was afraid that someone would hear me and perhaps even come back to investigate. As it was we had to hope that no one came back to the bathroom of their own accord; I’m not sure how we’d have reacted if they did. The bathroom doors were outside the curtain, so I supposed we could have just been quiet and hoped that no one poked their head into the galley to see what was going on.
Because the area was so small, Steve was standing right in front of me; almost on top of me, in fact. His cock grazed my face a couple of times and I had to resist the urge to take it into my mouth. It took him a good five minutes to get to the point where he was ready to blow. I could tell by his breathing rate that he was getting close and wondered to myself if anyone could hear him out in the cabin, even though anyone who’s been on an airplane knows that they’re hardly the quietest places on the planet. “If it helps you any, you can grab my hair so you can hold my face where you want it to be.” The words seemed to go into one ear and out the other. Perhaps he was concentrating on what he was doing, though.
He missed my face completely with the first shot, hitting me on the shoulder. The second shot hit me directly in the mouth, however, and it tasted quite acrid. His third shot got me right above the lips and a fourth one hit me on my cheek back toward my ear, and began draining down my neck. He moved to where his cock was right over my face and continued for a few more strokes to milk the cum out of himself right over my eyes. I turned my head so I wouldn’t get any in my eyes themselves, but a few drops managed to land right in the pocket of my right eye, and a little bit of cum managed to seep its way in. When people tell you that cum burns the eyes, they mean it. It really stung, but I tried not to let on like anything was wrong. Once again, it was all I could do to keep from taking his cock in my mouth and cleaning him off, but I had to resist the urge. That sounds so cliché, but when you have a cock right there in front of your face that close, the natural urge, at least for me, is to put it in your mouth.
As I stood up, Siobhan spoke her first words to me. “What a fucking whore. You look so silly.” Ever since I got on the plane, I had detected attitude from her, and I had a strong desire at that point to just slap the fuck out of her right then. However, I decided to take an alternative approach. As I walked over to her, she recoiled somewhat, thinking I was going to hit her I suppose. But I grabbed her head and kissed her dead on the mouth, with all of Steve’s seed still on my lips and face. As I mashed my mouth into hers she tried to pull back, but I had a death grip on her hair and wasn’t about to let go. She was going to share her coworker’s cum with me.
When I broke off the kiss, I whispered to her, “You have cum on your face. Go fix your makeup, bitch.” I grabbed a towel Steve had ready for me and went into the bathroom to clean up. I could hear the two of them talking in hushed tones, but couldn’t make out what they were saying to one another. It took me several minutes to clean myself up. When I walked out, Steven flashed me a thumbs up sign and I headed back to my seat to get a new shirt and my contact solution so I could change the contact in my right eye. I finished cleaning up and headed back to sit down. It was well after 2AM and I wanted to get a bit of sleep. Nikki asked how it went, and I took a couple of minutes to walk her through what had happened. I also explained to her that I was liable to slap that female flight attendant before we got to Aruba.
A few hours later, near the end of the first leg of the flight, I got up to go use the restroom and had to walk past Siobhan again as she was headed up the aisle to offer people bottles of water. She tried not to make eye contact with me, but I just glared at her as I walked by. I made it a point to stare at her every time she walked by in the aisles checking on passengers from that point forward. She was clearly disconcerted to some degree, though I wouldn’t call it uncomfortable. Other than that, though, the rest of the flight was rather anticlimactic. We stopped over in New York around 7AM, and after an hour layover headed on off to Aruba. I continued to have a bit of fun at Siobhan’s expense, and even blew a kiss at her when she walked by one time.
Steve told me earlier that he’d like to try again, but with everyone awake and moving about, it just wasn’t feasible. The leg of the flight to Aruba was pretty heavily booked, so there really wasn’t a good opportunity to do another shot anyway. So for the remainder of the flight, we just occasionally glanced at each other. When we landed, we collected our bags and headed over to the Renaissance Hotel where we’d booked our room.
As Nikki and I stood in line to check into our hotel, the flight crew arrived to check in as well. Steve had told me which hotel they’d be staying at, since our deal was that he’d get to cum on me as many times as he wanted while they were on their layover as a price of the tickets. That seemed only fair, especially since they were going to be flying back out the next day anyway. Siobhan got an “Oh, shit” look on her face when she saw me. I made a gesture toward her as if to let her know that she still had some cum on her face. We checked in and headed up to our room. We just had time to get settled when Steve called and asked if I could come up to his room so he could do me again. Despite being tired, we had a bargain so I headed on up.
I arrived at his room and knocked on the door. “Come on in.” As I walked into his room, I was shocked to find a woman going down on him. I couldn’t tell who it was because her ass was facing me, and I didn’t recognize it, not from that angle anyway. “Come on in. She’s helping me prepare for you.”
I moved around to where I could get a better view of what was going on and was flabbergasted to see that it was Siobhan with his cock in her mouth. He had her by the hair and was going at her pretty good. As she was being face fucked, she looked over at me. “So you’re a whore, too?” I asked, tongue in cheek. No reply from her, of course, because she was busy and had her slutty little mouth full. I figured as long as I was standing there not doing anything, I may as well have a little fun also.
I went around to her backside, slapped her on the ass, got down on my knees and moved in behind her. She appeared clean, so I started lightly biting her on the ass and playing wither clit. She didn’t put up any resistance, so I started rimming her. She let out a little moan, but offered no other sign that indicated whether or not she was into what I was doing. The scent and taste of her ass were intoxicating. Anyone who’s ever rimmed someone who’s not fresh out of the shower is familiar with the rather pungent, musky odor and the slightly salty taste that someone has in their anal area after having been at work, walking or sitting all day. It’s hard to describe, actually, but just as is the case with the smell of pussy, it is quite aromatic. There must be something pheromonic about it because it absolutely drives me wild.
I spent some time working on her pussy and her ass until Steven came up with the idea of having us 69 each other. As she got up, I once again pulled her to me and kissed her, allowing her to taste her own ass on my lips. This time she reciprocated the kiss. As we broke off, I whispered in her ear, “I hope you know how to eat pussy.” I took my shirt and shorts off, crawled up onto the bed, laid back and spread my legs and began playing with my clit.
Since the rules involved no penetration of me, I got on the bottom and Siobhan took a position on top of me, with her pussy right in my face. She leaned down and began feasting on my pussy, as Steven came in from behind right above my face and penetrated her. This was the first time I had ever been in a threesome involving a guy. I’d been in several with other women using strap-ons, but this was my first one with a live penis involved. The sight of his cock and nuts right above my face as it slammed into Siobhan’s cunt was incredible. Once he started fucking her, his balls began grazing my forehead and nose with each thrust. I started eating her pussy, trying to time the darting of my tongue to work in opposition to his thrusts. I couldn’t even really tell what Siobhan was doing to my pussy — I wasn’t paying any attention to it because my focus was so intense on what was taking place right in front of me. Or maybe she didn’t know what she was doing, I don’t know. Regardless, I was so enraptured by the sight of what was going on right above my face that I didn’t much care about anything else at that point.
In rather short order, Steve announced that he was getting ready to cum. I had just assumed that he was going to pull out of her and jerk himself off on my face, but that didn’t happen. He continued pounding away at her cunt as his orgasm built, and after he’d forcefully penetrated her a few more times he came inside her. Once he was done, he remained in place for a couple of minutes while his high subsided. It then dawned on me what he had in mind.
“Don’t move, Alexa.” As he pulled out, his load began leaking out of Siobhan’s pussy onto my face. He told her to sit up and let it all drain out. She did as she was told, and what seemed like a gallon of cum and cunt juice drained out all over my face. I had to turn my head to keep it from going up my nose and into my eyes. As she got up, it occurred to me that this was his rather unique way of giving me my second facial. I rolled over and got up off the bed, and all of the fluids drained down onto my tits.
Siobhan had to pipe up again. “You look even more like a whore now. Go show your girlfriend what you’ve been up to. She can even clean you up.” She was laughing as she said it, and it took every ounce of strength I could muster to keep from slapping the shit out of her. This time, I didn’t feel like kissing her, though; I just wanted to go back to my room and clean up. I was four floors below them, and that meant hoping no one would be on the elevator on the way down. Since they wouldn’t give me a towel to clean up with, I really had no choice in the matter — I just wanted it to be over. I put my shirt back on and the cum that had covered my chest caused it to stick to me. I didn’t even bother to look at myself in the mirror; I just left the room, almost in tears — not so much from what had happened as from the fact that Siobhan had actually gotten the last laugh in on me.
As I moved down the hallway, one guy passed me and stared at me as I walked by. I didn’t even bother to hang my head. The entire upper half of my body and my face was covered in cum, though I doubt with the lighting in the hallway he even had the foggiest idea of what it was. I just walked by as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on. Fortunately, no one was at the elevator and it was empty when it got to me. I got on and headed back to my room. When I walked in, Nikki’s eyes got wide, “What the fuck happened to you?’
I explained to her what had taken place and headed to the shower for a long, hot bath. The flight crew headed out the next morning, and I never saw them again. We spent the next couple of days enjoying the sun and water in Aruba, and then headed back home. The flight back was excruciatingly long. I couldn’t help but wonder the entire time, though, if any of the members of the return flight crew were anywhere near as freaky as the ones on the last trip. You just never know, do you?
When I got back, I had an e-mail from Steve thanking me for the “service” and telling me he hoped I had enjoyed the trip. I replied back that I did and left it at that. I spent some more time catching up on the continuing stream of e-mails related to this whole series of events. One in particular that had caught my attention was a request to participate in a bukakke scene at a local sex club. Paid, of course. What to do, what to do?
Birth of a Cum Slut
March 26, 2008
Once I calmed down, I began replying to the continued stream of e-mails I had received after having logged out earlier, letting them know I had already had my facial, and that it was far hotter than I imagined it would be. The overwhelming majority of replies suggested that I should let them know if I decided to do it again. A few even suggested that they’d pay money or provide other compensation to me for allowing them to cum on my face. At first, I just blew these offers off, but after about the tenth one I began to seriously think about how that might work. A hundred dollars just to let someone cum on me? Without any penetration? As outlandish as that sounds, that’s what many were offering. A couple of travel agents were offering up to three round-trip tickets anywhere I wanted to fly, and a flight crew member from a major airline was offering “buddy tickets” for me and my GF to go to places like Aruba, the Bahamas, or anywhere else his airline flew if I’d let him unload on my face on a flight he was on. Wow!
A few of the guys wanted to know why this was a fantasy of mine – what was driving me to want to have some random guy cum on my face? I’ve pretty much always been the dominant one in my relationships – not bossy, bitchy dominant, but the one who basically drove where the relationship went sexually. I’ve recently come to a place in my life where I want to explore my submissive side a bit. I want to be abused and degraded during sex – slapped, spit on, cum on, pissed on, face fucked, choked, bitten, tied up, restrained, etc., and have even gotten to the point of wanting to participate in some hard core bondage scenes. My current girlfriend has no desire to explore much of that, so I have no real outlet for it. And though we enjoy some fairly rough sex from time to time, it is nothing like what the dark places in my mind fantasize about.
After the conversation with the other girls about facials, I felt as though it was more “permissible” for me to engage in that kind of activity and put myself in that kind of position. I know it is not “politically correct” as a woman to say that I want to be slapped or spit on during sex, and I have no idea what it is in my mind that makes me curious and wet when I fantasize about it, but it does happen. And those of you who know me know that I am a firm believer in owning your own sexuality and exploring your own limits, fuck what anyone else has to say about it. So this had the potential to become the mechanism through which I could begin to explore this aspect of myself.
I finally worked up the nerve to reply to one who’d offered to pay me $100 and asked if he was being serious. He assured me that he was. I asked if that wouldn’t make me a whore. His reply was, “not in his eyes – it was more of a gift for a service performed.” How sweet of him. Semantics aside, I was not disinclined to take him up on it, given my enjoyment of the first one. I mean, getting paid to do something so benign (in my eyes), yet that so many guys were interested in doing and didn’t involve me fucking them? It seemed like easy money.
I replied back and asked him if he could meet me in the same parking garage as I met Tony. Though he preferred to meet somewhere less “public” I wasn’t about to meet someone in a private house or get in their car without knowing them first; at least, not at this point. After going through a series of negotiations, “Matt” agreed to meet me in the garage around 10PM the next night. I was going to have my car with me this time, with easy access to my panic alarm in case something happened.
At about 9:30 that night, I drove to the garage, and parked in the far back, lesser used area just as we had agreed. I got out and stood against the wall, the dim lighting just bright enough to make it not dark. As I had explained to him, I was wearing a pink shirt and a jean miniskirt. I left the bra and panties at the house to make things easier to get to, since I’d offered to masturbate for him if that would make it easier for him to get off. Though he was running a few minutes late, he finally pulled in. I suggested he park at an angle between my car and the wall so as to provide a space protected from easy viewing to take care of business in case someone else came driving around the corner. He did that and got out. I could tell by the bulge in his pants that he was ready to go.
“Did you bring the money?” He pulled five $20 bills out of his pocket and handed them to me. I thumbed through them and tucked them into my pocket. For a split second, in the back of my mind, I thought to myself, “You’re officially a whore now.” This, despite the fact that technically I had been a whore since a co-worker paid me $100 to eat her pussy one night. I’d apparently done a really good job, and she’d given me the money just so she could call me her whore. Silly bitch.
“Okay, here’s the deal. You pull it out and jerk yourself off. I am going to lean against the wall here and masturbate for you. Once you get to the point where you’re ready to cum, let me know, and I’ll get on my knees in front of you. You can grab my hair if you like so that you can make sure you get my face with it. Other than that, there’s no touching me, okay?”
“Sounds good. Fuck, you’re hot. This won’t take long anyway. Any chance you’ll suck me off? For an extra hundred, maybe?”
“No, dude. I told you what the rules are.” He began jerking off his eight-inch, hard-as-a-rock cock, and I could tell he was enjoying being watched. I lifted up my skirt and flashed him my baby smooth pussy, then dipped a finger into my cunt and began playing with myself. Just to help spur things on, I pulled the finger out, put it in my mouth, sucked my juices off, and then returned it to my pussy. That was as far as I got before he announced that he was ready to blow.
“Come here, slut.”
Though his calling me a slut stung me for a fraction of a second, I moved towards him and got down on my knees. He reached over and grabbed a handful of my hair and moved my head to a couple of inches in front of his cock. The image of a cock head so close to your face, knowing that it is getting ready to explode is hard to describe. It is incredibly sexy, yet fear inducing at the same instant. You know what got it there, but you know that at that range it can cause some damage if things aren’t handled the right way. Watching a guy jerk himself off at that angle was new to me as well and the whole combination of everything going on at that moment put me on the verge of an orgasm myself. This session was even more intense than my first one because I wasn’t as nervous as I was before and could focus more on the eroticism of what was taking place.
At that range I knew it was going to sting, so I girded myself for the impact. The first shot hit me just below the right eye, but I couldn’t pull back because he was holding my head. The second shot followed pretty quickly after that and got me right on the nose. It began draining off the end of my nose and caused it to itch like hell, but things were moving too quickly for me to react to it.
The third shot followed right on the mouth, and a fourth shot hit me square in the right eye. Matt then took his cock and rubbed his cum into my face. I hadn’t anticipated that, but it didn’t squick me out too badly. He let go of my hair, and I stood up and began trying to wipe the cum out of my eyes with my fingers. “Those were some good shots. I hope you enjoyed that.” Matt just stood there for a minute as if he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do at this point. “Thanks, dude.”
I picked up my purse and began walking off opposite of the direction of my car so he wouldn’t know that it was mine, the cum still dripping from my face. I wanted him to believe I was going to leave with his load on my face. In the meantime, he quickly zipped his pants up, got back in his car and drove on out. I returned to my car, got in and spent the next five minutes wiping my face off, and then I masturbated. I thought to myself, I am a whore! I just took money for a sexual service – that is what whores do, right? I know I didn’t actually have sex with him, but what we did was a sexual exchange. That made me….a whore. For some reason, this made me terribly horny. So I pulled my skirt up and masturbated again, giving myself two orgasms in succession before I even left the garage.
I drove the few blocks home trying to analyze what I had done; I was terribly confused. Despite my trying to find something to feel bad about, though, I just couldn’t. I don’t know if this was because I hadn’t actually fucked him, or if that even really mattered. I wondered if prostitutes felt this way after their first trick. All I knew was that I was $100 richer for nothing more than a few minutes of sex play. I just couldn’t bring myself to feel bad about it. And, in all actuality, I was turned on by it.
After I got home and cleaned up, I got back online and started e-mailing some of the others who’d said they’d pay to splatter my face. Several replied back that they were serious about being willing to pay for the privilege of cumming in my face if I was serious about letting them do it. There were some who balked at paying $100 to do so, however. But few could argue when I made the point that this was a special service – not even hookers would allow customers to cum on their faces, generally speaking. The special nature of the service justified the price in my eyes. Those who didn’t want to pay that much I just blew off (no pun intended).
So, over the next few hours, I negotiated with almost two dozen guys about setting up little trysts where they’d pay me to allow them to jerk off on my face. On the following Saturday alone, I arranged for eight such sessions, another two on Sunday, and three more the following Monday. The prospect of making $1,300 in three days for simply being a cum receptacle was astounding. I was amazed at the number of guys who wanted to do this – I had gotten well over 150 replies to my original ad! The vast majority of them had indicated that their current or ex girlfriends simply wouldn’t allow them to do it at home, and it was something they had a serious desire to do. Serious enough, apparently, to shell out some major cash for the opportunity. But those are stories for other times. Right now we just need to decide if we want to go to Aruba or the Bahamas.
My First Facial
March 26, 2008
I have had a fascination for porn for as long as I can remember, since early in my teens. I suppose that is unusual for a girl, but nonetheless, I’ve enjoyed a LOT of porn in my life. And, of course, you can’t watch porn these days without seeing guys spray cum all over girls’ faces. For the longest time, I always thought this was hot, but having been subjected to society’s indoctrination that porn is about dominating and subjugating women, I just believed that it was not something most women wanted anything to do with. Still, it remained a secret fantasy of mine to have a guy cum all over my face.
I thought I was alone until one evening while out with friends. One of the girls in our group admitted that she loved being on the receiving end of a facial. I feigned shock, but a couple of the other girls in the group admitted that they, too, occasionally enjoyed the slutty feeling they felt when their boyfriends came on their faces. This only served to reinforce my fantasy. However, I was in a long-term, committed relationship with another woman – I wasn’t going to have a boyfriend any time soon with whom I could experience this.
Sunday afternoon, while watching CNN, there was a story about women being arrested for soliciting sex for money on Craig’s List. It instantly struck me that this might be an interesting way to find someone who’d be up for giving a random girl a facial. I was familiar with the mindset of the people who tend to use CL for casual sexual encounters, and thought to myself, this might make for an interesting way to find someone. I started reading through some of the ads on CL and decided that this would be a good option to explore. I had to figure out how to do it without compromising my identity, where I live, etc. I made the wild decision to just ask a guy to do me in an alley not too far from where I live. I didn’t care who he was or what he looked like, I just needed someone with a cock who wanted to cum on a girl’s face.
I hastily composed an ad that read:
Looking for a facial - w4m
I have been wondering what it would be like to get a facial from a random guy. No penetration, no sex, just a quick facial. Meet tonight between 11PM - Midnight, in public area near Gold Club and go to a nearby alley for quick facial. You can even spit in my face if that gets you off. If it matters, I am 22 wf, 120 lbs - I don’t care what you look like. This is not a joke.
Much of the porn I am into involves extreme degradation to the woman – including being slapped, chocked, and spit on, so I added the part about allowing the guy to spit on me if he wanted. I figured if I was going to go so far as to allow him to ejaculate on me, spitting on me wasn’t that much different, and if that helped get the guy off, so much the better. I suppose this comes from the fact that I tend to be the dominant one in my relationships, and the feeling of being degraded and being that submissive appealed to the inner slut in me. I intend to explore that option in much greater detail at some point in the future.
Within a couple of minutes of posting the ad, I started getting responses. The third one I received was from a guy named “Tony.” He included a photo of what appeared to be an 8 or 9 inch cock – it was huge, and at least his torso was very attractive – he had awesome abs. His message simply read, “If you’re serious,” despite the fact that my post had stated that it wasn’t a joke.
“Yes. Very serious. If that’s you, you have a nice cock. Would you like to use it?” I replied.
“If you’re serious, just tell me when and where.”
I sent him my spare cell phone number and asked him to call me. He did and we worked it out to meet at 11PM at a bar around the corner from the Gold Club, a local strip club. We sent each other pictures so we’d know what the other looked like. I also reminded him that this wasn’t a fuck date - I wouldn’t suck his cock – he was free to jerk off, but I couldn’t/wouldn’t touch him. He agreed to that, and said he’d always wanted to give a girl a facial but none of his girlfriends would let him do it. “I don’t know why you’re doing this, but I’ll happily help you out.”
While I waited for the appointed time, I continued reading and replying to some of the responses that continued to pour in from the ad. When all was said and done, there were well over 100 replies – I had NO idea there’d be that much interest in this kind of random encounter. Many of the guys indicated concern for my personal safety – I thought that was so cool. I have a black belt in TaeKwonDo, however, and anyone who tried to pull something on me was going to be in for a fight if I had any say in the matter. I wasn’t too concerned for my safety, but I took a couple of other precautions just in case.
Tony and I met at the bar and recognized each other immediately. I explained to him that I didn’t want to get engaged in a long conversation with him, took him by the hand and led him out the door. We walked around the corner in search of an alley suitable for what I had in mind. That proved to be a bit more complicated than I had imagined. There weren’t any decent alleys on Howard Street to speak of. We finally went into a parking garage across and up the street a bit from the strip club and found a relatively secluded area in the rear of the place between a couple of SUVs to take care of business. “Are you ready?”’
“Hell, yeah, babe. Just get on your knees.”
I did as he ordered and he unzipped his pants. He was already hard as a rock, and had an impressive cock. It was all I could do to keep from swallowing him right there and asking him to face fuck me, but that was out of the question.
“Just don’t aim for my eyes. I have contacts and if you get it in my eyes, it’s gonna suck. If it helps you, you can grab my hair and hold my head. ”
He began stroking his cock and within about three minutes was already to the point of cumming. I wondered to myself how he was able to keep from popping a load on the way to meet me, since it looked like it was ready to explode right then! I reached down into my sweatpants and began masturbating myself. I was getting so horny sitting there in public begging a guy to plaster my face with a load of semen. I cajoled him, “Come on baby, cum on my face.” As his orgasm built, he began to moan – I was hoping it wasn’t loud enough to attract any attention, since the sounds echoed a bit off the garage walls!
The first shot hit me square on the upper lip under my nose and caused me to jerk back a bit. The feeling was incredibly warm, followed almost immediately by a cooling sensation. The second shot hit me in the left cheek, and a third shot got my left ear. He grabbed my hair and held my face under his cock as he coerced what was left of his cum out onto my forehead. The cum from my forehead began running down into my eyes, so I had to wipe it away from them. The warmness on my face turned into something akin to having had Astroglide on my face – both cool and slippery.
I stood up, thanked Tony, put my purse back on my shoulder and began walking off. As I spoke, some of the cum from my lip got onto my tongue – it tasted just as I had remembered it from years past, salty and somewhat bitter.
“Can we do this again some time?”
“I don’t know. If I decide to, I’ll be in touch. Thank you. I hope you enjoyed it.” As he stood there with a bewildered look on his face, he began putting his junk back in his pants and zipping up.
I began walking back to my apartment about a half a mile away, leaving the white sticky cream on my face. As I passed others headed in the opposite direction, I wondered for a brief second or two if they could tell I had cum all over my face, but decided that, in the relative dark under the streetlights there’s no way they could pick it out as quickly as I was walking by. My pace began to quicken – I had to get back to my apartment and masturbate. I could literally feel the cunt juice running down my leg and even the sensations from walking seemed as if it would lead me to an orgasm.
As I swiped my access card in the security device at our apartment complex, another woman walked out of the interior door. She looked at me strangely as I went in, but I didn’t slow down. Could she tell what was on my face? I doubt it. It had been raining most of the evening, and I believed anyone seeing me would have thought I had come in from being in the rain. The cum had begun to dry, and parts of my face felt as though I had glue rubbed on it.
I made it into my apartment and went to the bathroom to see what I looked like. I was shocked to see that I had a fair-sized blob of cum in my hair! Did people see that? Could they tell? The rest of the cum had become clear and just looked like a thick water on my face where it hadn’t dried already. It occurred to me that the knees of my sweatpants were wet from where I had been kneeling on the ground – I looked like I had been sucking cock to anyone paying attention.
I took the feeling of being a whore with me to my bed, began to masturbate furiously, and came within a minute. After I came down, I went back into the bathroom and looked at myself again. It was hard to tell that I’d had cum on my face, aside from the crusty stuff peeling off of it at this point. I took my shirt off, hopped into the shower and washed myself off. As I did, I masturbated again.
This morning, as I reflect on what transpired last evening, I have decided that getting a facial is definitely a turn-on for me, and I’ll likely try it again at some point. Next time, I will take my small camera and snap a photo of my face with the slut cream all over it - for my own personal use, of course. I could never post something like that on the web. People might think I was a slut.
Alexa
March 26, 2008
Alexa is online.
Who is Alexa? Hopefully, in the coming days, weeks, and years(?) you’ll come to know me a little bit better. I am starting this blog for two reasons. First, I like to write. When I have nothing specific to write about, I write erotica. Second, I thought it would be interesting to chronicle the start of a new chapter in my life - Chapter 5 as I know it.
Chapter 5 begins with my graduation from undergraduate school, the move to a new city, beginning my graduate studies, and beginning a new job. That new job is the primary focus of this site. I will be entering the world of escort work.
Will I enjoy it? Based on the research I’ve done, the people I’ve talked to, and the understanding I’ve come to about what it entails, I believe so. You’re invited to follow me along on this journey to see what happens.
I can’t promise you anything except the truth. Some of it may be exciting; some of it may be boring. You may enjoy it; you may not. But you will get the insight into my world as I experience it.
That’s the best I can do.
The Journey Begins
March 25, 2008
The journey begins now.
